The Aftermath

It has been just over a week since I completed my 100 day Bikram challenge.

The grind is over.

No more doubles. No more rising in the wee hours to fit in a class before work. No more late night loads of laundry to make sure my gear is ready for the next day. 

People ask how I'm feeling. They ask if things are different. They ask if I feel a real change. 

My answer? Well, yes. And no. 

Physically, yes I did feel different -- at least for a few days. I was lighter. I was more flexible. Poses that were very difficult were easier. Poses that I excelled at became fun, even joyous. My breathing was better. There were mental improvements as well. My focus was so much better! Those negative voices and thoughts receded into the background. For a day or two, I was on a real emotional high. I felt so good about what I had accomplished. My yoga "family" gave me so much love and support that a simple "Thank You" seems too simple. Banal. Trite. 

Just a week later, it all seems foreign, as though it was a dream. A story I made up in my head. Now that my yoga "bubble" has burst, I feel as though I'm back where I started. 

I've been on vacation this week. A lazy, do very little staycation. I haven't done much this week. The first four mornings, I got up and walked 2-3 miles each morning. It was quite refreshing and I easily worked up a sweat in the warm, humid conditions. As for yoga, I have completed only two classes since the challenge ended. Monday's class wasn't too bad. I was still able to kick out both sides in Head to Knee. That said, it had been 85 hours since class #101 last Friday, and it showed. I was much less flexible. The strength wasn't there. The balance was more difficult to maintain. I ascribed this to the fact that my body was recovering from the grind, and that in a few days an equilibrium would be found. Not so. Wednesday's class was worse. I had no strength or balance. I fell out of almost every pose. I sat out Triangle, something that hasn't happened in weeks! Anyone watching would hardly believe I had just completed a challenge. 

This brings us to Thursday. 

I was invited to take class and then join some of my friends/classmates for dinner. I was hesitant because they are younger, more successful, and have better yoga practices than me. Most of all, they always seem to be much happier or content than I am. Always smiling and playing around in the room after class. I didn't want to be a downer or a nuisance. 

So it's Thursday and class begins and I can hardly breathe or move. It quickly becomes apparent that I'm panicking. I make it through the first three postures, then grab my mat and beat a hasty retreat. I text apologies and go home feeling terrible. I binge on cheeseburgers and fall asleep. 

Many people say that a long duration challenge changes you. You feel different. You look different. Your temperament changes. Your life improves. One of my instructors even used the following quote:

"Do your practice. All is coming."

- Sri K Pattabhi Jois

For my two work study friends who completed 30 and 60 day challenges in the midst of my own, this is true. One started her own business. The other found a dream job that she loves. I am insanely happy for them. 

Me? Well it will be back to the same old job with the same struggles and fights and disappointments. I had the fortitude to go to yoga for 100 days, yet I cannot summon the courage to search for a new and better way of living. Living in a yoga bubble for three months plus gave me a place to hide, to consider what I could do if I merely made an effort. I thought I made strides forward and gained a measure of confidence. I thought I was ready for real change. In reality, little has changed. I'm still watching my life pass by through a glass that I cannot break. I know there is a better way. I just can't get there. I am weak. I am gutless. And the clock keeps ticking. 

I should have kept going. 

Peace. 

The Last Class

You know how there are those days when you just know it's going to be a rough day? One of those days where you wake up with that uneasy feeling in your gut? Where something deep inside you is almost begging you to lock the door and pull the shades down? Today was one of those days.

It started around 2:30AM. That's when I woke up and could not get back to sleep. This happens more and more these days, and I'm mystified as to why. I mean, after 70+ days of yoga, I should hit the pillow and sleep the night away. Anyway, I lay in bed until just after 4:00, then gave up and got up.

"Well, I could go to the 5:30 class."

I nixed that idea right away. I was hungry so I made breakfast then puttered around the house. I could eat, hydrate, and be ready for the 9:30. So, that's what I did. However, as departure time approached, I found myself more and more leery. Something kept telling me to stay home. I fell back on the mantra, "The only bad class is the class you don't attend." I tried to silence the voice in my head and drove to the studio. I sat in the parking lot for 10 minutes before entering the studio. I eschewed my normal spot on the right side of the room and instead set up on the far left. Back row. Right by the door in case I decided to bail. The instructor hit the gong, turned on the lights, and welcomed us to class. That's when it started to go wrong, because he had a theme -- something for us to think about during class:

"For this class, I want you to think about how it would feel if you knew that this class would be your last class. Ever. Eventually we all make that transition from this life. If you knew that this was your last time here, how would you feel? What would your practice look like?"

Immediately, a lady in front of me pointed to her water bottle and declared, "If this was my last class, that thing would be full of vodka." This brought a ripple of laughter, then class began.

Between breathing sets, the instructor implored us to really feel ourselves breathe: "Really feel the inhale and exhale. If these were your last breaths, what would you think about them?"

After the first set of Half-Moon, he kind of challenged us: "Everybody is just raising their arms like this (he mimics the majority of the room by raising his arms over his head in a somewhat indifferent manner).If I knew this was it, I would be like this (extends his arms fully, making near perfect upward arcs, reaching them up as though he was trying to grab the ceiling fan)." 

At the water break, he spoke again: "How does the water taste? Feel the coolness, feel it going down."

I'm not sure how anyone felt about all of this. I do know that it pretty much wrecked me.

As the question rattled around in my head, I withdrew more and more from the class. Tears would well up, then disappear, then well up again.So many things started bouncing around in my brain. To wit:

Damn. My postures are never going to improve.

I wasted a lot of time in my life.

I never even tried to find out exactly what my "best" was.

I always "settled". I never took a promotion. Never tried to find my passion. Thirty years in the same grocery store doing the same thing is as safe as safe can be. And it is death.

I rarely fought for anyone or anything, and almost never for myself.

I never will see a mountain or walk on a beach.

I never took risks. Comfort meant safety, and safety meant building walls and spinning cocoons. I let so many opportunities slip by because of fear or because someone said I shouldn't or couldn't (usually it was me -- that would mean leaving the comfort and safety of the known for the unknown).

I spent way too much time on everyone else and not enough on me. And, when people accused me of thinking too much about myself, I gave in more often than not. I let others set my path -- or I walked someone else's path instead of my own. So, now that I am taking a few timid steps forward toward figuring this out, NOW IT'S FUCKING ENDING??!!??

I will never get my hands under my heels.

I guess there was no need for that bucket list, since I accomplished exactly NONE of them.

 I don't want to die. I don't even want to contemplate it. I fear death.

On and on it went. All the while, I'm trying to kick out in Head to Knee, I'm trying to hold Standing Bow, I'm giving up and sitting out Triangle because I already know the outcome. I could barely keep my balance in Tree, and I didn't dare even attempt Toestand. The floor series was really no better. I did three or four postures, but mostly I was just "killing time", so to speak. I did not spend my two minutes in Savasana. I got up and out of there just as fast as I could. I drove home with the radio off, telling myself I should have stayed home.

I feel fairly confident that I will wake up tomorrow and take at least one class. I feel confident it will be better than the class I had today.

But what if?

It really would suck if it all ended this way. 

If I don't figure this out, it will end this way.

The clock is relentless, and I haven't a clue where to start.

Namaste.

 

 

Voices Inside My Head

Note: My 60 day Bikram Yoga Challenge rolls on. The events in this post relate to class 41 on Wed May 13. 

At the end of my last post, I said that last night's class was probably going to be difficult. 

"Difficult" does not even begin to describe it. 

Instead of describing each posture in gruesome detail (at least, the postures I actually attempted), I wanted to relate some of what was going on in my head during class.

Pranayama: My right elbow never seems to get quite as high. Man, do my shoulders hurt. 

Awkward: Wow, I actually stood on my tiptoes and held it... Why am I now falling out of the third part?

Eagle: Not too bad (first set)...

           What the hell happened in 45 seconds that I can't do this? (second set)

Standing Head to Knee: OK, so what if EVERYONE else is kicking out... It's ok. So what if you can't even grab a foot or lock a knee tonight. It's ok...

Standing Bow: This is not going to end well. (I am having trouble with balance and I can't really even START the posture.) Oh, great EVERYONE is in the posture. They look awesome. And here I am standing up, head down, hoping a hole opens up in the floor and swallows me. 

Balancing Stick (my knee buckles as I step forward): Please don't give up. PLEASE DONT GIVE UP! I give up. 

Standing Separate Leg: Don't give in!! Don't! DO NOT GIVE IN!!! I crumple to the floor. MOTHERFUCKER I SAID DON'T DO THAT!!! I hit the floor and there I stay. 

Triangle: Don't even bother trying. The instructor tries to coax those of us not doing the posture into trying the second set. I ignore her. 

The monkey mind has won. Yoga has become secondary. My brain and my body are arguing with each other and nothing is getting done. I sit out until Savasana then give a half-hearted effort in Wind Removing that the instructor calls me out by name: "I know you can do this, Mark. Pull harder." I do not. 

I am pretty much done from then on. I spend the remainder of class on my back wondering why the rest of the class has the fortitude and strength to press on while I simply quit time after time. I then think about how this same issue presents itself outside the room: while others advance or move on to bigger and hopefully better things, I have stayed in the same place doing the same things for almost three full decades. 

Why?

In both cases, fear.

Fear of falling out of postures. Fear that I will never be able to grab my heels or kick my leg out or hold a posture. Fear of how I look. Fear of failure. Fear of success. Fear of ridicule. Fear of losing what little I have. Fear of dying.

Fear of living. 

I settle. 

I give up too easily -- sometimes without any fight at all. 

Instead of practicing acceptance and mindfulness and compassion for oneself, I berate, chastise, and loathe myself. 

I keep trying to convince myself that I belong in that room. That I can change my body, my mind, and my life. 

I keep trying to convince myself that I matter. That I've actually got the cojones to make this happen. 

As I complete this post it is 4AM on Sunday morning. Storms are rolling through. Rain pours down as lightning races through the clouds and I wonder what today will bring. 

Will I accept and embrace what comes, or push it away?

Exactly what would happen if I let go of the fear -- just for a moment?

Peace.